13 June
Dear Friends
For some time now, I’ve been observing a growing trend in the fashion industry and retail spaces. The lines are becoming more distinct, the colour palettes more muted: beige, white, soft browns dominating the scene.
One large fashion brand in particular has become synonymous with this minimalist aesthetic: pristine white walls, clean edges, thin lettering almost vanishing into the background. If you glance too quickly, you might miss it entirely (if it weren't for the bright white lights!).
The store on Kalverstraat is often too crowded to notice the details, but their outlet at the Cape Town waterfront feels like something else altogether. It’s like stepping into an oversized clinical theatre. It’s striking how we’ve come to embrace this streamlined, minimalist style. Not that I’m trying to pass myself off as a fashion critic; I’m far from it. And I know that minimalism is a thoroughly studied, even celebrated, topic in fashion conversations. As a kid growing up in my gran’s delightfully cluttered 90s home, I totally get it.
But what intrigues me isn’t the trend itself. It’s the human dimension behind it. Or, more precisely, how we’re beginning to imagine ourselves without ourselves. Without our bodies, our places, our experiences, cultures, and personalities to define us.
This thought resurfaced as I walked past the same store again this week. The faceless mannequins I remembered had now been replaced with mere silhouetted outlines. Just shapes. The message was clear: you are nothing more than the beautiful dress draped over this outline.
And yet, the Christian story tells another truth.
The Trinity reminds us of the richness of God—that diversity, difference, uniqueness, and even strangeness are not just aspects of creation, but of God’s very being. We are not asked to erase ourselves in order to belong to this divine community. Quite the opposite. We are invited to show up fully: colourful, textured, complex, reflecting the vibrant beauty of the God in whose image we are made.
Marius Louw